It is rumoured that she was once the fairest in the land.
With eyes so bright, they were like portals to another dimension, and then so blue, it was as if crystals, the pale blue sky and the deep blue sea fought for dominance and won. In the best ways possible.
Her hair, long and golden like the very sun spun itself into a mane, and lips, wide and full, Cupid himself was said to have bent a knee.
It was said that her smile alone could heal a broken heart.
Lady Porsha was beautiful. She knew she was beautiful. And she knew everyone knew it too.
But Porsha had a secret.
That no one knew.
For every day she made her beautiful appearance, a soul was lost.
For centuries no one knew this.
That her beauty was from the essence of new borns.
Who she fed on till they withered from the inside out.
So, anytime she ran suffered a shortage of souls to feed on, she never showed he face outside.
Charmie was her trusted servant.
And to keep her alive, Porsha gave her a vial’s drop of this essence. Just enough to sustain her, but never enough to make her beautiful.
Charmie lived a life of disenchantment. She hated her existence but had long come to accept her fate.
As one forever in service to the vile Porsha.
She had only one condition.
That Porsha never fed on any of her descendants.
But the day Porsha went behind her, to do this very deed, Charmie was silent.
And brought the vial of essence to her mistress like she’d always done.
Only this time, it wasn’t of a newborn but of a homeless retard, who saw beyond Porsha’s facade, and spent his days railing curses on her.
It was this very essence Charmie fed to Porsha that morning.
And when an oblivious Porsha stepped into town that day, all glammed up in a rich blue dress that matched her even more majestic parasol, the gasps of disdain left her bewildered.
She fished out her ever present hand mirror. And with one look, knew the end had come.
Her face was filled with wrath and resentment at a people who could so quickly turn their backs on her because she had lost her beauty.
Summoning every black power within her, she fed off the souls of the townspeople. Old and young.
She fed. And fed. And fed.
But like every thing in the world, an overdose is detrimental.
And so, the beautiful Porsha, filled with the souls of her people, let out a powerful shriek, and disintegrated into dust.
No one knows what befell Charmie.
But it’s said that she’d watched that afternoon’s events from the top of a cliff, let out a long, hard cackle, and threw herself down, disintegrating into dust long before she hit the ground.
What I See: A lady dressed in all blue, with a scornful look in her face.
What I Feel: There are stories untold buried in her heart, and words she cannot utter hidden behind her lips.
